Chapter Six
Millie
T he atrium of the Royal Academy is packed with folding tables and enough posters, paper bags and leaflets to make you wonder if these people have ever heard of climate change. The vast room is buzzing with life. New students like me make their way around, peering into shiny faces as they talk animatedly about the debate society football team or drama club. The stale scent of people just dragged out of bed, stuffing their bodies into yesterday's clothes, saturates the space. The room is an architectural beauty, with a domed glass roof and sunlight striking ivory-shaded statues and carvings. It seems wrong to hide it behind bunting and balloons. But everyone else seems happy enough. Their smiling faces and chiming giggles, whether real or fake, were more than I could force across my aching jaw.
Where was the club for people who didn't know how to be anymore? Where was the club for the lost?
Fresher's week is really just about events like this, rooms like this one. Electrified with nervous and excited energy. Of people trying on new roles until they find one that fits. I didn't know how to do that. I wasn't sure if I even remembered how to try. It had been six years since I'd been like the people here, just another face in the crowd. Before Mum got sick, the most stressful thing I had to deal with was homework and the occasional unrequited crush.
I want to run. My whole body is on high alert, as if I want to bolt back to safety at any moment. With every painful breath, I remind myself why I'm here. Why I'm choosing to be here. I want to take photos and be back in a stuffy, pungent darkroom. I want fingertips blackened with charcoal and oil stains on my clothes. I want to create. All the things that made my heart soar once. It’s everything that comes with it that I don’t want.
Head down, I slip through the crowd, snippets of conversations and playful banter shoving their way into my ears. New people awkwardly getting to know each other, those familiar catching up after a summer absence.
“… Oh my god, where have you been? I split up with Joshua, like, weeks ago. I'm seeing Danny now …”
“… I still can't believe she told Mona about me and Anthony! Especially after I saw what she and Sadie got up to at her party …”
Sighing, I tug at the straps of my backpack and keep walking, my attention focused on getting to my first seminar. It's just an intro, nothing important, but my stomach feels heavy with sloshing worries. I keep my head down. Nobody seems to notice me, and I'm happy that way. They all seem light, fresh-faced and new. I feel old. Years of caring for Mum had taken something away from me. I knew that, and more heartbreakingly, so did she. I wasn't the girl I was. I wasn't a girl at all anymore. And coming here was as much for her as it was for me.
Slicing through the crowd, gaining a few filthy looks as I do, I rush through the open double doors and into the fierce sunlight. I draw the fresh air into my lungs, feeling immediately lighter. Sinking on the stone steps, I ignore the chattering groups lingering around me. Ahead of me, a fountain bubbles across the street. Cars make their way up the road, their journeys slowed by the dozens of students crossing their path on their way to or from this building. I should move and make my way to my seminar, but right now, with the warm stone beneath my legs, I can't seem to make myself take a step.
“Then why are we here?” A whiny voice and two pairs of clomping trainers smash into my quiet thoughts. A moment later, I realise why. Peering up, haloed by the sun, I see two slender girls with long hair styled immaculately around their shoulders in fat curls. Crop tops reveal toned, tanned stomachs. My body freezes.
“Samira's working a shift in the union. I said we'd meet her before …” A few more clacks, and then a shadow blocks out the sunlight, turning my world cold. “Oh, my god … Millie? It's you?”
Peering from the gaps between my fingers, I look up and see Chloe grinning at me through a mouthful of lip gloss. I give myself a second, take a deep breath, and force myself to meet her eyes.
“Chloe. Hi.”
She's staring at me like she's not sure if I'm real, her heavily lined eyes turning wide. She shakes her blonde hair, her lips splitting into a wide grin.
“Marnie, this is Millie. We were best friends, like forever ago,” she says to the bored-looking brunette next to her, though she never asked and is clearly not interested. “I can't believe it. I haven't seen you in, well, forever!”
“I know …” I don't know what else to say. I'd been dreading this moment, knowing it would come eventually. I knew Chloe was studying fashion here, and though we'd be years apart, the chances of never bumping into each other were zero to none. Chloe had been my best friend. We'd slept over at each other's houses, we took dance classes on Saturday mornings, and I can't remember a single birthday before Mum got sick when we weren't together, stuffing our faces with cake and sweets. But then everything changed. Mum's sickness created a mountain between us, one too big for either of us to climb over. We'd shared everything before, but we couldn't share this, and I couldn't relate to her anymore. I couldn't share her worries over boys, about making sure the cool girls liked her, and how annoying her little brother could be. In the space of a few months, we went from inseparable to two people who just nodded at each other in hallways.
And then I left school altogether.
“I'm sorry about your mum. She was always super nice to me and so much fun.”
“Yeah … your mum sent some nice flowers to the funeral.” A funeral she couldn't be arsed to attend, I think as I clench my teeth.
Marnie sighs dramatically and takes out her phone, staring at the screen as if I’m not even here.
“So … you're just starting here?”
“Ummm …” I drag myself up awkwardly, ignoring the raised eyebrow from Marnie when I stumble slightly. “Yeah, I'm just starting my foundation year.”
“That's so good. It's really good. You're getting out, you know, getting back into the world …” She doesn't know what to say, so she says everything.
I bite my lip. Holding back a desire to tell her not to bother. I prefer uncomfortable silence to the stumbling words of people terrified of saying the wrong thing. There is no right thing.
“If uni counts as the world, then yeah, here I am,” I say, my words dryer than I intended. Chloe's smile doesn't falter, but Marnie looks at me again like I'm a fly who's landed on her lunch.
“Honestly, I am so happy to see you.” Chloe moves forward and puts a warm hand on my arm. Her perfume is heavy and floral but not unpleasant. Her smile softens, and so does my tension. She means her words.
“It's good to see you too, Chloe.” I have so many other words I'd like to say. I want to tell her how angry I feel at being left behind. That I'm jealous of the life she had that was taken from me, of the guilt I have for feeling that way, and so many questions. I want to crack open the shell of her life and examine the contents till I know exactly what I've missed.
She nods and swallows, like maybe she has more than a few unsaid things, too. Marnie coughs loudly, but Chloe ignores her.
“You know, I actually dreamt about you last night. Didn't I?” She turns to Marnie but twists back to me before she has time to acknowledge her. “So we've been like practically stalking the PR guy online, but we finally got on the VIP list for Worship! Isn't that insane?!”
“I … uh, what's Worship?”
Marnie's eyes widen, her mouth turning into an ugly 'o' as she mutters something under her breath. I avoid the temptation to snatch that phone out of her hand and chuck it into the road.
“It's this club that opened last year. It's amazing! We got in a few months ago, but like, it's basically impossible if you're not on the list. And anyway, last night I dreamt I was going, and you were with us! Isn't that weird?”
I smile, a little glad that Chloe hasn't changed much. Yes, her make-up is better applied, and the blonde waves suit her. Her dress is amazing, and no doubt one she'd made herself. Chloe was always making things. She'd been surgically attached to her sewing machine since the moment her mum bought her one. First, it was dresses and skirts for her dolls, and then when she grew out of toys, it was clothes for us.
“Yeah, really weird,” I say, trying to find more enthusiasm than I feel. Suddenly, Chloe jumps and squeals. I flinch, and Marnie rolls her eyes.
“You should come? We have a spare spot, right?” Chloe shrieks in my direction, her ocean-blue eyes turning into saucers. She turns to Marnie, who looks horrified.
“Wait, wait … didn't you already promise that place to Lara?” Her eyes widen knowingly, and she says the words slowly. I snort and give her a look that makes sure she knows what a terrible liar I think she is. I don't care about going, and I don't particularly care that Marnie doesn't want me there. But I'll be damned if she thinks I'm so dense I can't tell she's lying.
“No, no, I told you she's away.” Chloe isn't looking at Marnie; she's still grinning at me. And if she knows what Marnie is doing, she doesn't show it.
“But …”
“So, do you want to go? Trust me, it will be so much better than whatever fresher hell they've got planned.”
I laugh. I can't help it. Chloe looks horrified by the idea of a fresher's ball, and in truth, the club sounds better. Across the street, a couple of students jump into the fountain. Their screams distract Chloe and Marnie, and it gives me a moment to think. I have never been to a club. In fact, the last night out I technically had was at an underage disco at the youth centre when I was thirteen. I know from Chloe's profile (the one I try not to look at but do) that she's out a lot. Wearing glamorous little dresses, drinking colourful cocktails and surrounded by boys, always lots of boys. I imagine myself in those posts, dressed up, dancing and looking happy. The idea of going terrifies me; my lungs constrict at the thought of it, but the thought of another Saturday night sitting at Roisin's watching soaps and eating crisps makes me feel flat.
“Please! Come on! It will be so much fun. Just like old times.”
Just like old times.
It shouldn't be those words that cinch it. But it is. My anger might have dulled it, but I'd missed Chloe. I'd missed her unwavering enthusiasm for anything and everything. I missed the laughter. And I missed the carefree person who'd laughed with her. Maybe in the bright lights and high heels and dancing, I'd find that person again.
“Chlo, she doesn't want to go. Stop trying to make her,” Marnie hisses.
“Sure, I'll go. Since Lara doesn't seem to need that spot after all …” I utter my response before I even realise it. My eyes don't leave Marnie's uncaring face.
“I'm going to find Samira.” She storms past, making a point of avoiding my eyes as she does. I feel my lips twitch, but Chloe is oblivious.
“I'm so excited. You're going to have the best time, you'll see.”
I'm not convinced by that, but still, it was something. And something was better than more of nothing.